


Lucidity

by GetInMelanin



Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief, Heavy Angst, Lucid dreams, Married Couple, Married!Chris Evans, Married!Reader, Mentions of mild depression, Mentions of miscarriage, More tags to be added, POV Alternating, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Male Character, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Pregnancy, Pregnant Reader, Psychological Thriller, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert, Sorrow, first-person, mentioned - Freeform, mind fucking of note, original female character(s) of color - Freeform, sort of, y'all gonna hate me!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetInMelanin/pseuds/GetInMelanin
Summary: I thought I was going crazy. Tried to convince myself that I was hallucinating, that this was only a horrible, horrible dream.None of this is real! None of this is real!!But, my scream still tore through the room as dark blood spattered my face and ruined my white dress. I was paralysed by fear, my bones concrete and heavy, my limbs stiff and unresponsive.And, he lay there just a few feet away from me - motionless.His glazed, blue eyes empty. Dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers/gifts).



_Pain!_

_That was all I could think off, all I could feel, as I grit my teeth through the tensing pressure threatening to snap in my lower abdomen, the slicing pain of someone literally ripping my body in two. I could barely register the midwife urging me to push harder, nor could I make out the items and people scattered and scrambling around the hospital room. Everything was a blinding blur of blue and bright lights._

_I could tell I was sweating, and I think I may have cried out as another contraction tore through me. Upon its brief passing, I slumped my head on the too-snug pillow, tears strewn down my clammy cheeks as I screwed my eyes shut to ease off the salt stinging my eyes._

_I was tired, and I was frustrated, wanting to be completely and thoroughly done with all of... this! If I were granted the option to give up right then and there, I would have cheerfully asked the doctor to put me out of my misery - but there was a hand that was squeezing mine this side of too tight, spurring me on. Encouraging me._

_"Listen to me, baby, you've got this!" He had his forehead pressed against my temple, dampened by the sheer effort and exertion I was being subjected to. He raised his head to longingly kiss the now vacated spot, before resuming his previous postion, speaking quietly, yet reassuringly, in my ear, "just one more push, okay sweetie? One last, big push, and then it's over. Come on, I believe in ya, Champ!"_

_Champ._

_He said it with so much confidence and conviction - a hint of pride, anticipation and excitement intermingling with his cool and calm tone. Somewhere, over all the chaos and cacophony of man and machine, I found my strength. It was hidden deep in the warmth of his voice breathing against my ear, and he anchored me with the strong grip of my left hand in his right. With several deep breaths, I grit my teeth once more and pushed, my face contorted in painful concentration as I bent my body in the name of spilling over with the gift of life._

_And then, I heard her infantile cries._

_"Congratulations, you've given birth to a healthy and beautiful baby girl!"_

_Chris and I were speechless as they placed her tiny, fragile body - flushed a dark shade of pink and still coated in amniotic fluids - on my bare chest, the nurses bustling this way and that, cleaning up her precious little face and the soft curls of hair on her head. I laughed and cried in relief, never-ending tears spilling over as I looked down at her tiny fisted hands, eyes so puffy they were two barely open slits._

_The moment I felt that hummingbird heart begin to slow, and beat in-sync with mine, I swear to God that everything and everyone surrounding me became temporarily obsolete. It was just the two of us in a sea of bright white, all the excitement and irritation in the maternity room gone._

_Brushing my fingers delicately over the thin tufts of dark hair, I welcomed my baby into the world - our world - and kissed her head._

_And then, I began to cry, but these were not tears of joy. It was as though I was mourning. Grieving for a loss so tragic, I was unable to cope with, nor comprehend it, only feel the blackness of sorrow explode in my chest and spread through my body like shockwaves._

_In the back of my mind and through my quiet sobbing, I could here Chris calling my name. At first, it was muffled and unclear, as though he were talking behind a closed door. He called me again, and again, his voice becoming clearer, until I felt someone place a strong hand on my shoulder, shaking me vigourously._

 

I woke up with a start.

Sitting up slowly, I touched a shaking hand to my forehead - it was lightly sprinkled with drops of sweat, and I could feel a cold track of tears crossing the bridge of my nose and another running under my eye, diagonally across my cheek. I looked at the digital clock beside me.

2:17am.

"Hey." I felt Chris' hand flattening on my shoulder blade, it was cool and somewhat relaxing.

Releasing a slow breath, I dropped my hand and gave him a sideways glance, before focusing my attention on anything other than his concerned, blue gaze. With a sniff, I wiped the tears away and pulled the covers from my legs. Just as a swung my legs over the edge and my bare feet sank into the plush carpet, he quickly tugged my wrist, repeating himself with a more forceful tone, "Hey!"

With a quiet huff, I halted and looked at him over my shoulder. Letting go of my wrist, Chris touched the small of back, rubbing small, soothing circles. 

"Are you okay?" His asked the question hesitantly, not sure of whether I would snap at him to mind his own business, or burst into tears, finding consolation in his arms and sobbing myself to sleep. Either way, he wouldn't get an answer. Not yet anyways.

I sighed quetly, "Yeah, just...gimme a second, okay?" And just like that, I stood up and quickly made my way to the bathroom.

After making use of the bathroom and splashing my face with cold water, effectively bringing myself to my senses, I headed back out into the passageway, but instead of retracing my way back to our bedroom, I lightly padded over to the nursery. 

The door was closed - it had remained that way for two and a half months now. No one, not me, nor Chris - not even our parents - had entered that room in just as long. A stranger visiting us wouldn't even know what lay beyond the threshold if it weren't for the light pink and green wooden letters stuck to its surface.

_Lourdes Roya Evans._

I slowly reached my hand out and traced the name lightly with my fingertips. The wood felt cool under my touch, gently scratching the skin as I ran my fingers across her name. With a forlorn sadness, I dropped my hand to the doorknob and paused.

Did I really want to open myself up to what awaited me on the other side? 

All that pain and grief rushing at me like the winds of an Oklahoma tornado, overpowering and overwhelming me until I couldn't breathe nor hear my thoughts over the sound of me crying and wailing for someone who never even came home.

I pulled my hand back quickly as though I'd been heating it over a fire for too long, and spun on my heels, rushing back to our marital bed - brushing away my tears.

When I returned, Chris was sitting up in the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers buried deep in his dark hair. My heart sank.

These past few weeks had been hell for the both of us, and me continuously being plagued by dreams and unexplained night terrors was taking its toll on him nearly as much as it was affecting me. Every other night, it was the same scene: me tossing and turning, trapped in a subconcious realm; my moans and grunts startling him awake and lastly; jolting awake to his eyes, drowning in a blue wash of concern and helplessness as he observed the wet tracks marking my face. And he would always ask if I was okay.

He had some idea of what was going on, how my psyche chose to become active as I tried to find rest- how I dreamt of events that I desperately wanted to forget and moments that had never happened. What bothered me most about these dreams, was how real they felt. But I couldn't bring myself to answer his question. If I said "no", that I wasn't anywhere near okay - that I was falling apart every sunrise - I feared I would be forced to relive what I had slept through moments ago, and I always felt as though I'd lost a part of me then. But, if I said "yes", then I would suffer alone. No amount of comfort, no amount of encouraging and reassuring whispers, would be enough to fill the defeaning silence. I was at a constant cross-roads.

He didn't look up until he felt my weight dipping the bed, the covers opening up as I climbed in. I touched my elbow against his side - anything to feel his warmth against me. Chris dropped one hand so that his fingers could rest on mine splayed on the cool sheets. I glanced down at the point of contact, contemplating my next words, and then I grabbed his hand. I was tired of running away, of avoiding him and shrinking against his touch. 

Tonight, I wasn't okay.

"I... she was in my arms, Chris," I swallowed thickly. "This time, they gave her to me - she was so tiny and beautiful. And I kissed her. I kissed her, and for a moment, I forgot where I was." My voice cracked. 

I remembered the unique smell of her, how soft her hair was when I touched it, her skin when I lovingly kissed her...

"It all felt so real!" 

As always, tears were threatening to spill over, and I probably could have kept them at bay, but the moment he pulled his hand from my grasp and hugged me to his body in his strong arms, I could no longer hold my breath and a sob tore from my throat.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I lost our baby."

"No, _no_ , sweetheart, that's not true. That's not true, okay? None of this is anybody's fault." I felt Chris plant a kiss to my head and rest his chin against the crown of my hair. This simple act of sincerity was one of the reasons I fell in love with this man. In very few words, he understood that I needed him desperately. The whole time I revelled in the solace of his embrace, dampening his shirt, he said nothing - only hushing me and swaying me in his arms. 

"Listen to me, I love you. No matter what, I love you. You're my weak spot, and don't you ever forget that."

_My God, I love him!_

After a long moment of silence, I was beginning to dose off when I sensed him leaning back against the stack of pillows propped up against the headboard. Cracking an eye open, I began to stir in his arms. Lifting my head off his sturdy shoulder, I was making to settle on my side of the bed when he stopped me.

"Woah, hey! Where are you going, honey? Have you forgotten, I'm your personal teddy bear?" he asked in an amused tone.

I let out a laugh that had been bottled up inside of me for so long, it felt strange and out of place. I knew I wouldn't be experiencing pure happiness for a long time, but the smile on my face and my shoulders shaking in mirth felt... nice. And familiar.

Snuggling back into him with my arm thrown across his chest, I deliberately placed the side of my face on the left side and listened to the steady pace of his heartbeat through the light cotton of his shirt. My eyes slid shut as I began to melt into him, moulding myself to fit perfectly against his body. 

My breathing evened out, counting the thump-thump of my own heart slowing.

The last thing I remember thinking before going under, was how funny it was that his heart rate matched the slowness of my counting.

_1; 2; 3.._

_1..._

_2..._

_3..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris does a LOT of thinking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, back, back again!!
> 
> I couldn't get enough of writing this fic and decided to finish of chapter 2!
> 
> Okay, so I don't know if any of y'all picked up on any it, but there's a lot of sneaky thought that went into this lol. 
> 
> Lourdes is reference to I think it was Bernadette who had a dream/premonition of the Virgin Mary; Roya means dream, vision or premonition. I'll have to research this again lol  
> 13 is actually a number associated with dreaming, hence it's significant in this chapter  
> Just know there's thought in this fic lol
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter  
> Enjoy xx

Chris turned to find the spot next to him empty. Nothing surprising though, between the two of you, you always had an inclination to being the first one up and in the shower - you were also responsible for irritating him on hair wash days.

Even now, he could hear the water running nice and steady as you prepared for the day ahead. Luckily it was a Saturday, so there really wasn't much to prepare for, he supposed. His mind went back to you.

Less than three months ago, before everything was unceremoniously turned upside down, your lives were as peachy as it could get. You'd been together for eight years, married for four - 12 years in total. It would be your 13th year as a couple in a few months time. From the outside you had it all: Chris had a prosperous career as a freelance artist and photographer;  you were a journalist, who occassionally indulged in creative writing and poetry as a hobby at first, later streamlining into creating your own blog, which had slowly garnered success over time. In fact it was when you were covering one of Chris' exhibitions during your journalist days, that the two of you met. Chris kept saying that it was love at first sight for the both of you, on the other hand, you believed you fell for him after three weeks. Historians will argue.

The flow of income pooled between the two of you was enough to afford Chris the ring on your left hand, and the wedding of your dreams - albeit simple. 

And then, you fell pregnant. 

He'll admit that he was fucking scared out of his wits at first - but as he watched how the skin over your belly became smooth and slightly bumped with time, his fear dissolved into excitement. You'd spent endless nights discussing whether you wanted to know the baby's gender, joking on how you would dress her in GAP and Chanel, and what names you felt would fit the little bundle of joy that would have been due in a few months on Monday. Hell, you were so excited, you became a mom-zilla when the time came to transform one of the two guest rooms into that of a nursery. The room was nearing completion, when everything was suddenly uprooted so violently, neither of you had the chance to catch your breath.

_Dammit!_

Every time he found himself reliving those short months of happiness, he wound up replaying the same scene of horror and fear in your eyes when he found you bleeding profusely on the living room floor. He can't fully recall everything that took place that day, except for the prolonged panic where he nearly ripped his hair out as doctors worked frantically to prevent you from going into shock, and after that, your emotionless eyes laying there and staring at nothing in a sedated daze, coming to grips with what had happened.

It was tense and silent when they allowed him to finally see you. You didn't even turn your head upon him closing the door with a gentle click, and as he planted himself in the chair next to your bed, he tentatively reached out towards your hand. At first, you pulled back. But he was persistent, and the second time, he rubbed your forearm and waited for the tightness of your muscles to relax slightly, before moving his hand down and over your wrist to finally grasp your hand. 

There were no words exchanged. What could he say? He was just as numb as you were, his lips sealing themselves shut while his mind raced. He contemplated how you as a couple were going to move on and recover from this trauma. He would never say it out loud, but although he was shrouded in numbness, he felt a sense of relief. Yes, he had lost his daughter - and there was absolutely no way to describe the raw, cold pain slashing through him from the inside - but... _fuck_ , he'd almost lost you too! 

Well, that's not to say you were the same woman after that.

It wasn't that Chris expected everything to be all smiles and rainbows considering the tragic circumstances, but he would have never thought the changes brought upon you would be so... intense!

Chris got up from the bed and headed off to brush his teeth and carry out the rest of his thoughts in the guest bathroom. Toothbrush in mouth he resumed his reverie.

He first noticed these changes in the way you avoided him. Everything from Chris touching you, to his attempts at trying to engage conversation - life had became somewhat monotonous. He would go out for the day to meet a client, run a few errands and maybe check up on the latest developments with his art gallery, and depending on what time he returned home, he would find you sitting on the couch with the TV blaring, but the blank look on your face and in your eyes told him you were in no way interested in what was airing. When night time came, and all Chris wanted to do was hold you tight and feel the rise and fall of your shoulders and chest wrapped in his strong arms, you simply turned your back to him and scooted as far away as the bed allowed. You were completely detached, so he thought he'd gave you space.

But, even after that, you continued to brush him off. Worse still, you could no longer undress or be caught even half naked in front of him, always choosing to quickly get dressed when he left the room and locking the bathroom door whenever you took a shower.

There was one incident in particular that he can't seem to shake from his memory.

The shower was running and you had forgotten to lock the door. Chris, having made the mistake of assuming you were already in the shower and completely blurred out by the frosted shower door and walls, figured it was okay for him to enter unannounced. He walked in to find you naked, carefully hanging a clean set of clothes on the towel rack. Before he could even register the beautiful depth of your brown skin and the crown of braids wrapped up high atop your head, you whirrled around with a very loud gasp, the whites of your eyes showing as they widened in what he was certain looked like a scared and desperate animal caught in a harrowing situation. And then, within an instant, your face twisted in a kind of ugly rage he'd never seen before - and for the first time ever, you slapped him. Hard.

Screaming, " **CHRIS!!! GET. OUT!!!** " you shoved him out with all your might and slammed the door shut. He was so shocked, he only managed to register the red burning on his cheek after he heard you slump against the closed door with a choked sob.

To this day, he still shudders just thinking about the uncharacteristic amount of anger and loathing that was in your eyes. 

But now, there was this thing with you and having strange dreams. You had only ever described one of the weirds dream in passing, nothing too serious in his opinion - well, at least that's how you made it sound. There were two cases in which he'd been roused from his sleep by the sound of you whimpering quietly, or mumbling something in your sleep and he was aware that you may be watering down the seriousness of your "episodes" considering that you'd wake up really groggy and disoriented, dark shadows under your eyes. But it wasn't until last night, that you gave Chris a little more insight into what your subconscious was putting you through. And to be frank, he was beginning to worry.

Physically and emotionally, you were unavailable and forever hiding yourself from him. That was up until you started having these unspoken dreams that were slowly corroding your mind, and that aspect alone made absolutely no sense - he was beginning to feel a little frustrated.

Once he was done brushing his teeth - a little to aggressively - Chris was making to turn the shower on when he realised he'd forgotten his bath towel in the bedroom. "Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

Now, he had to make the journey back all in the name of a stupid towel!

He was still grumbling under his breath, when he entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks. His breath hitched at the sight before him.

It was the same beautiful depth of brown skin that he'd come to love all those years ago. 

You weren't facing him, and the soft carpet silenced his lumbering footsteps when he'd entered the room. You wouldn't have known he was there. Wearing nothing but a pair of lime green boyshorts, and white, mid-calf length socks, you were slightly hunched over at the shoulders and fixated with rubbing rosehip scented body butter on your body. Chris himself became fixated with the way your fingers smoothed the white lotion over your butt, rubbing in a circular motion repeatedly, until your skin began to glow slightly, having thoroughly absorbed the creamy goodness.

He felt a sore twist in his chest. Chris didn't realise just how much he missed you, until then. Before, you would've shared the shower, and nearly every time, Chris would have you pinned to the wall, drawing an array of sounds from your mouth that echoed louder than that of the water splashing against glass. And your skin would glisten and glide against his, your legs wrapped around lean hips as he thrust into you, deep and with earnest until he felt you shudder beautifully around him. You were also what he called "touch-starved", Chris' excuse to help you moisturise your back while murmuring sweet and sexy things into your ear, getting you all hot and bothered and oh-so-needy to the point that he was tempted to take you right there and then, against the chest of drawers.

 _Man_ , he really missed those days! Now, he only touched you when he felt it was warranted. 

He was ripped from his day dreaming by the sound of you gasping in fright as a hand flew to your chest.

"Chris - oh my God!" you said, taking deep breaths and walking over to him so you could steady yourself on one of his broad shoulders. Chris himself was so lost in thought, he failed to realise he'd cracked a smile as his face fell in concern. He blushed a deep scarlet and began to stammer.

Once again he'd walked in on you when you were your most vulnerable and insecure. He wasn't sure how to react, fearing that if he spoke or tried to grip your shoulders and console you, you might sock him in the face. The whole thing seemed to be a frantic moment in which he didn't know what to do or say, while you were hunched over a little, scolding him for sneaking up on you like that. And then, all too suddenly, your head shot up and looked at him through narrow and suspicious eyes. "What the hell were you smiling at?"

Oh, shit! Now he was really in for it! 

He wanted to be truthful and tell you how he'd spent the whole morning reminiscing the good, bad and ugly, and that he understood your pain and how you would never stop blaming yourself for your body's ultimate betrayal. How would he tell you that, at the same time, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself? That he feared it was beginning to affect you on a cerebral level? Perhaps, this was your brains way of healing. A coping mechanism that was tripped by you choosing to shut off all emotions and feelings. Hell, maybe there was a method to the madness! 

But... he just wanted to know why you wanted to experience this all alone.

Why, wouldn't you let him help you? Chris would move to the ends of the Earth, just to take your burdens and pain as his own. Share in the painful beginning stages of self-healing with you, even though he wasn't the one who'd sacrificed his body in the name of providing a home to a child that would never get to call him "dad". Even then, he desperately wanted you know that you were not alone and that he was _always_ with you, that you didn't have to blame yourself for fate taking its course. He may have told you some of this last night, but he didn't think you fully understood where he was coming from when he said, "I will always love you." He meant it when he said you're his weak spot. He was also hurting and he couldn't do anything about it, unless you fully let him in.

All of these unanswered questions were whirling around his head at 90 miles an hour, meanwhile, you were waiting for your damn answer. Eventually, he settled with, "I'm sorry."

You touched a hand to his cheek and sighed. "It's okay. Chris," he raised his downcast eyes to look at you, "are you busy today?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Usually, he took Saturday's off from visiting the gallery and meeting with clients, to hole himself up in his studio, working on new artwork and projects. Something told him that wouldn't be the case today.

"Uhm, no. I can always work on my stuff tomorrow, or over the week. Why?"

You fiddled with a piece of loose string on your tank top. "I think- we need to talk... a little." He definitely didn't ignore the way you added those last two words as an afterthought. "Let me just finish up getting dressed and we can head into the kitchen for breakfast, and we can talk then."

Chris nodded his head once. He was slightly taken aback by you standing on your toes to kiss his cheek. When you turned around and headed over to the bed to put your jeans on, he took that as his cue to leave. There was a slight sense of relief as he headed off into the kitchen.

* * *

It watched as she turned around to put one leg into a pair of dark jeans, and then the other. Shimmying the item of clothing up and over the swell of her thighs and hips. She had a small smile on her face after giving her partner an affetionate kiss on the cheek, before sending him off so she could complete her task of getting dressed.

He'd offered her solace the previous night. A false sense of security that could easily be breached - it was only a matter of time. She had tried her best to selfishly conquer her adversity alone, which had opened a small space of opportunity for it to enter their home and ultimately bring decay and destruction to their measly little lives. That tipped the scales dramatically beyond repair. No amount of "talking" could stop the chain of events that had been unlocked.

Again, it was only a matter of time. 

Poor soul. She was naive enough to begin thinking she had overcome the worst. This was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitch! Let me just tell you that I was feeling a little creeped out writing the end of that chapter. From now on I'm writing this fic during day time LOL
> 
> Just a little insight: the miscarriage took place around 4 and a half months. The reason for this is because at that stage of pregnancy it's considered "safe". Plus it's halfway through and my parents prepared my little brother's nursery when she was halfway along...basically everything that happens is in the name of plot, so please understand this =) =)
> 
> Thank you to those who commented and left kudos! I'm still feeling a little rocky with this one, but I'm still going to put everything into it just like all my other works
> 
> Uhm, yea...please don't forget to leave your kudos and wonderful comments my lovelies! If you don't, steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers locks me in a room with Sebastian "Sex on Legs" Stan and I can't update ANYTHING because...you know...I'll be fighting to break out of the room and totally NOT putting him on his back...you know, because uhm...he'd be going all Bucky meets The Winter Soldier on me....you know what? Just leave your comments and kudos my good people =D
> 
> Peace and Bacon Grease xx


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